


Do You Know Any Elven Heroes?

by captainjackspearow



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Archdemons (Dragon Age), F/M, The Dark Ritual, Ultimate Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-24 01:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6136459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainjackspearow/pseuds/captainjackspearow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Female Tabris makes the ultimate sacrifice rather than force Alistair to participate in the dark ritual against his will, because if she's learned one thing in the alienage, it's that shemlen will take the pleas of a noble man far more seriously than elven cries of injustice. </p>
<p>She doesn't tell Zevran this.</p>
<p>Spoilers for end of Origins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Know Any Elven Heroes?

She can’t do this to Alistair, despite how much she desperately wants to survive this battle. It may not be the brutal, unforgivable wrong that Shianni suffered, but forcing this on him would be pretty damn close, at least in Tabris’ mind.

Especially because she knows he wouldn’t say no. 

They both know she’s going to die tomorrow. Alistair’s too important to be sacrificed. Ferelden needs its king, however much he might protest, because Maker forbid the throne pass to Anora in his stead after what happened in the Landsmeet. It wouldn’t be hard to guess what would become of the remains of the Alienage and its surviving inhabitants out of retribution for the execution of the queen regent’s father. Alistair knows this – Tabris knows that he knows it – but she can’t help but feel that he’d rather it be the other way round instead.

In the grand scheme of things, Tabris is nobody. Fereldan will continue to exist if she makes the sacrifice, and perhaps things will be a little better off for her kin if she does. She remembers the two children playing at shemlen heroics in the alleyway on that day that now feels so long ago, and wonders if they are still alive. If all goes well, they will have a new game to play, at least until the Chantry writes her out of the equation, trimming her ears and paling her skin.

She hopes Alistair will fight to keep that from happening.

She knows he’d do this for her, this thing with Morrigan, even in the face of his own discomfort and the incalculable danger of the resulting offspring. 

It’s exactly why she can’t ask.

The apostate’s offer feels too much like the temptations of the sloth demon. Tabris is no mage, but she can recognize a deal that’s too good to be true when she sees one. Alienage life taught her that, if nothing else, and this ritual is exactly that. Morrigan played dirty – she kept the cards close to her chest and hit exactly where she knew it’d hurt, bringing up Zevran when all else failed.

For Zevran’s sake, Tabris would do the ritual in a heartbeat – consequences be damned. But it wouldn’t be her performing it. She lacked the parts. Despite her former friend’s pleas for her lover’s sake, she couldn’t ask Alistair to do what she could not. 

Tomorrow, the blight will be over, one way or another. She does not expect to live to see the outcome.

*** 

They are to storm Fort Drakon and face the archdemon at last, and all that’s left to do is decide who shall accompany her and who will hold the city gates against the rest of the horde.

Alistair must accompany her, in the event that she fails. Sten is the only one of her misfit crew that’s held a commanding position, never mind the only one she trusts to get the job done, so he’s quickly charged with overseeing the defense of the gates. She loves Leliana too much to ask her to watch what must be done, and the rest of her troops will desperately need Wynne’s healing. She still can’t bring herself to trust Oghren at her back, and Shale’s presence will buy the gatekeepers much-needed time. Morrigan was nowhere to be found when Redcliffe awoke, to the surprise of nearly everyone but Alistair (who never quite got around to fully trusting the apostate anyway).

Her beloved mabari will settle for no place other than at her side, for as much as Tabris likes to pretend otherwise, the dog is a warhound. She’ll be able to hold her own in the push to the archdemon. 

That just leaves Zevran.

She suddenly regrets leaving him for last, because she can see the uncertainty and doubt in his eyes. He knows she means to leave him behind.

“So here we part ways?”

She nods, biting back the tears. She will not let him see her cry.

He notices her discomfort; of course he does – blast that elf, and asks her softly, “You do not wish me to stand by you, in the end?”

Tabris shakes her head. “You know I can’t ask this of you.”

“Oh – now you worry about my health?” He breaks the sarcastic façade with a laugh, though it is a laugh tinged with pain. He isn’t ready for this, for the goodbyes. 

Neither is she, no matter how she snorts at his comment, playing at nonchalance the way they have become so accustomed to on their journey. They both know she isn’t coming back.

It’s too painful to look into his eyes and know she could have kept death out of them, and she looks away, afraid for them both. They stand there in silence for a moment, their companions awkwardly shuffling in the background, making idle conversation as they wait for their commander. 

It’s too much, and she opens her mouth to say something, anything – but whether it’s a goodbye or a confession, she’ll never know, because Zevran beats her to it.

“In truth, for the chance to be by your side, I would storm the Dark City itself.”

Damn him – her eyes are watering now, threatening to spill over and wet her cheeks. He takes her damp eyes as those of shock rather than regret, and of course he does, given the casual tone with which he’s long used to treating their tryst, his lack of practice with declarations of genuine affection. He shouldn’t have interpreted it as such – she knows too dearly how much he cares for her, that’s why she’s crying – but he responds urgently to it anyway.

“Never doubt it.” 

***

The beast falls to the cobblestones with a low whine – this is the best chance they’re going to get, and Alistair knows it too. They lock eyes, and Tabris breaks into a tired sprint, ignoring his shouted protests behind her.

Alistair’s screaming attracts the attention of Zevran, however, who is currently pulling his daggers out of a pair of genlock corpses to her right.

Bewildered, he looks up, locking eyes with Tabris. Just for a second, she falters, the rhythm of her desperate sprint thrown off balance by his impossibly concerned expression. 

It takes all her remaining willpower to force her eyes away continue on.

Dark ichor sprays everywhere as Tabris carves a swathe of gore through the beast’s neck. She can hear Zevran’s quick steps behind her, his panicked voice echoing across the rooftop of the fort. 

She catches a brief glimpse of his face, eyes wide with concern as she plunges her greatsword into the beast’s neck, but it’s not enough, because her vision fades to black, concern shifts to panic, and she falls.


End file.
